Category: relationships

A jury of his peers

The fragility of freedom                

A friend of mine was acquitted by a jury of his peers on Thursday. It was the correct verdict in my opinion. The jury apparently agreed, given that they deliberated for less than an hour. Considering the gravity of the charges, his ex GF’s young daughter accused him of some very inappropriate acts, the jury must have found them as unlikely as I did.

As you can clearly see, I am of the belief that he was not capable of the acts he was accused of. As a character witness for the defense, I was not tasked with offering platitudes regarding his character or my opinion on the veracity of the charges. I was only asked to describe the household when I was renting with him. I wish I had been afforded the opportunity to offer up my understanding of Steve as a decent, virtuous guy who treated the young lady, the accuser, like his own daughter and acted as the only father she had in the prolonged absence of her own.

And I’m also a bit relieved that I wasn’t asked to do that. Because at the end of the day, despite how unlikely I believe the alleged behavior to be, I could never say for sure that it didn’t happen. I just do not know. Having said that, the prospect that I may in some way either help a predator go free, or discredit the testimony of a possible victim is a terrible position to be in.

Let’s say the jury got it right and the truth is out there. It’s also safe to also say that the truth is my friend could have spent 10 to 20 years in State Prison, where he would have probably been killed in the first year. It’s also the truth, as proven by the accuser’s mother (the ex) on the stand that her daughter was coerced into pressing charges by her friends in order to “save face” from being caught in a lie. It is important to know that this child has a long history of troubled behavior ranging from promiscuity at a very young age to lying frequently.

To think that they would allow the charade to continue when it was clear, even to the jury, that it was a face-saving situation, sickens me. The man has already lost everything. His job, future prospects and most of the relationships he cherished. When an accusation of this magnitude is made, it doesn’t matter if you did it.

Everyone thinks you did.

Waiting on a verdict

the accusation and the path of its destruction

I testified as a character witness today, via WebEx, for a friend accused of a terrible crime.

I learned about the accusation in 2017, when he asked me if I would be a character witness. I was on the spot and, despite my reservations and a desire to think about it first, I agreed. I would come to regret not thinking it through before answering. I was sickened by what he was being accused of. Inappropriate sexual conduct with his girlfriend’s daughter.
Would my testimony play a role in possibly setting free a predator, or worse, would I discredit a possible victim? Neither choice appealed to me.

The plan was to hope that it somehow would not go to trial and that it would go away on its own. I think we all know that ignoring a problem or hoping that it goes away seldom works. Imagine my reaction when I got the call from the public defender’s office 2 weeks ago. Since then I have been so very torn over what will happen, and of course what, if any, impact could my testimony have on the outcome.

When I spoke with the PD yesterday, as they prepped me for my testimony, it became clear to me that I was only required to answer questions about the time frame in which I lived with my friend. That time period was before the “incident” occurred. There would be no tricks, and it would not be as portrayed on television and in movies. I would merely testify to his character.

Today I did just that.

I heard the case they have prepared. It’s weak, there is no evidence, and I find the accusations completely inconsistent and unbelievable with what I know of his behavior.

I talked to him tonight. He was thankful for my testimony. He expressed gratitude for my friendship. He then told me, in no uncertain terms that he is hoping to see me soon. That is, of course, unless he is convicted tomorrow and brought directly to State prison. A place where he is certain he will be killed.

If he is convicted, and this sounds bizarre, I sure hope that he did it. Because his life is over already. He has lost everything over this accusation. There is simply no full recovery from this, even if found innocent.
The stakes have never been higher. It’s all on the line. His entire fucking life.

I guess we’ll know tomorrow.

Jeremey

A story of addiction, recovery and a friendship for the ages

I got a text today from Jeremey.
Hey buddy, just wanted to let you know that I’m doing great. Love you and appreciate you.
It warmed my heart to hear from him. It also served to remind me of how much I miss my job. Two things you need to know here:
I took a hiatus (possibly for good, I just don’t know right now) from a job that I love.
Jeremey is letting me know that he is doing great not only out of friendship but over an incredible bond that we formed when I was his Case Manager at a Drug/Alcohol Recovery Center. Affectionately known as a Rehab.

When I met Jeremey he was not great. Anything but. I met him at the lowest point of his life.

It was a cold December morning when I made the 1500-yard trek to the Detox building to meet the new client assigned to me. I walked in, shook the cold off of me and went to the common area to find my Client. I called out the name and a man about my age weakly forced himself out of the deep cushion of the sofa and slowly trudged his way towards the chair I motioned for him to sit. I was amazed at the effort it took for him to get to it. Then he spoke. Over the course of the interview, as I explained our program, my role as case manager and his expectations for treatment, I must have asked him to repeat almost everything. He was too weak to speak clearly and with any volume.
What he was able to say was nothing but pure denial and resistance. The broken man before me was utilizing all the strength he had to fight me on whether he needed treatment or not. He wanted to leave after Detox, I politely suggested that a full program would do him better. I didn’t fight him. At the Detox level, that is not atypical. As they say, De-Nile (denial) ain’t just a river in Egypt.

This went on for days. Despite my requirement of seeing a client twice a week, I met with him every day. As his strength grew, so did his insistence that he didn’t have a problem. Recognizing that I had a challenge, and a chance to do some good I pushed back. Day after day. Finally, he agreed to stay for 2 weeks. This was a victory. This one became, against all judgment, personal for me.

Jeremey would fight me on everything for those 2 weeks. I dug in and challenged him. I couldn’t work harder on his recovery than he was willing to, but I really wanted to see him get better. 3 weeks became 4weeks. He began to buy in and just when I thought that the therapy sessions and meetings were working, after 4 weeks he made a huge push to leave. I worked with him more, throwing everything I knew about the model of addiction I had to have discussions. I paired him with other clients that were where I was hoping he would get to and he still wanted to leave. Finally, everything combined wore him down. He finished the program.
And in the process, we became wonderful friends. It evolved to the point that when we saw each other we would hug and often he asked how I was doing before I could ask him.
On the last day of his 9th week Jeremey left our care. The man who was too weak to speak, a disbarred lawyer and 25 year career-alcoholic whose most recent memory was waking up in his brother’s recliner (he was homeless), vomiting on himself in front of his 2 nephews, swigging a beer and passing out again, was leaving with a reservation at a Sober House, a job (we coordinated interviews while he was in rehab) and an entirely new outlook on life.
I was so proud to have been a small part of such an amazing story.
So back to the text.
We parted as amazing friends. He made a commitment to check in with me periodically, knowing that my failure to hear from him may indicate that he may have relapsed. I hadn’t heard from him in a while. To get that text means that he is still doing great.

That’s why I became a Case Manager. To become part of something like that.

To Love again

That’s what I want…I think

I’m beginning to think that I am going to be alone for a long time, maybe forever. I’m conflicted at times, oddly at peace with it others. It comes down to reality vs. want and I will come down on the side of reality more often than not. The reality of it is that I have a very unremarkable and disappointing history of relationships and I’m not interested in adding to the heap.

But part of me still wants to be with someone.

The negative guy in me could say that my lack of success in relationships is my own fault. After all, it makes sense that the immaturity and character flaws that negatively affected every other aspect of my life would certainly affect my relationships. I was, and perhaps still am, a very mixed-up person. But it was not all bad. I had some amazing relationship moments that I will always cherish. Also, it isn’t fair to myself to assume that my relationships didn’t work only because of me.
It’s not always me.
But unfortunately, in the absence of answers, my nature is to blame myself.

Now that I am in a forgiving phase of my life, I am able to take a hard look at the possible reasons that I am single and without prospects. I am capable of taking an honest look at myself and dealing with what I come up with. So I ask myself…why am I single?

Physically, I have some challenges. Should a woman actually take a look at me I look old. I shave my head because if I don’t my hair grows in like the infield of a little league baseball league in August. I have a goatee that is not even gray anymore, it’s white. I wear glasses and hearing aids. I am a bit overweight. That is what the world sees.
Should a woman look past those things and want to learn about me they will then find that I am not financially independent and do not have my own place. These things, along with hair, matter. How do I know? I have been openly rejected on dating sites for those very reasons.

That hurt a bit.

It’s a shame that character doesn’t matter in the transactional dating world of today. If it did, then someone could see that I am loving, affectionate, caring and loyal. I have no problem with monogamy. I like it. Because I’m honest. When I find something I like, I don’t look for something else. It’s too bad that doesn’t matter anymore. If it did, someone would also learn that I have a very youthful attitude and the sex drive, and prowess, of a much younger man. I know how to work the equipment. I’m in the Union.

All that aside, as 60 approaches, it appears that I may be alone. I can make peace with that. I’m just sad that I have to. I’m a romantic at heart. I feel a tug when I see happy couples in real life. I want to live the moments portrayed before me on TV and movies. I want to hold someone’s hand, yet all I have to hold is the remote. I want another chance at being in love. At living my life with someone else. To have my heart skip a beat when I think about someone.

Maybe it isn’t in the cards for me to have another shot. Maybe I’ve had all the second chances In life. Maybe I don’t hold the appeal that I think I do. I can, and likely will make peace with that. I may have to. After all, who says that I deserve anything? I may have already been given my one and only and screwed it up.

I think the best course of action is to let the universe do my bidding for me. I’ll see if Love finds me when I’m not looking. After all, that is how the many blessings I have been given have occurred. Why not another?

Fairness

The other day I overheard a young woman loudly state, while involved in a heated conversation with what I can assume was her mother, that she deserves to be happy. She followed it up by emphatically stating that it is her “Constitutional right” to be so. I wanted to jump in so badly and offer that the pursuit of happiness is mentioned only in the Declaration of Independence and nowhere mentioned in the Constitution, that the only promise implied was the pursuit, and that it was only meant as an assurance from a young Country that it was committed to freedom for all individuals, without persecution, to pursue God-given (inalienable) rights, one of them being happy, which in and of itself cannot be guaranteed.

But common sense and experience prevailed. I inferred her age and concluded that not only would I not make any kind of meaningful impact on the conversation, but also that it is not entirely her fault. She was a twenty-something, a member of a generation that has been raised on validated feelings, cancel culture, banned history, and soft truths delivered in a manner as not to offend delicate sensitivities. I kept to myself, knowing that while I meant well, I would probably come across as an old fart dishing out unsolicited opinions. I could see how the conversation would go. I could even see the ending, the introduction of the concept of fairness.

This is where my concerns for today’s generation lie; the expectation or assumption that life is fair. In the great quest for equity on all fronts, somebody made the bold assumption that all things, including happiness, would be evenly distributed. They want life to be fair.
Newsflash: LIFE.IS.NOT.FAIR. Don’t expect it to be and you will never be disappointed.

I have had a hard life. Many challenges have risen to meet me on the road of life, and I have had my share of hardship. My life has been a struggle to say the very least. But that does not mean I haven’t experienced happiness. I have had many moments that I can recall, and they are etched in my brain. But they were brief and fleeting. In between those moments was everything else that I, and countless other people have to do every day.
Such as dealing with people and things that I did not want to but had to.
Working jobs that I hated because people depended on me and there was no plan B if I lost my job.
Biting my tongue and not punching the fucking shit out of somebody because I either worked for or with them, or I feared going to jail.
Facing the truth even when it was painful.
Allowing my children to feel hurt and sad because I knew that by fixing their problems for them, they wouldn’t learn anything.
I’ve had heartache, illness, financial problems, and relationship issues. There are so many examples, but I’ve made my point. I and countless others have survived all of those things and so much more and didn’t develop a victim mentality or lament the lack of fairness. If you get how life works, you do it because that is what life is: survival. Getting through all the crap in order to enjoy something, anything, that makes you smile…that’s happiness.

Chase it, create a healthy definition, and appreciate it when you have it. Know that you are not entitled to it. And don’t expect to be happy. Because life is not fair.

Not my dog Sam

I have a 4-legged enigma sleeping on my feet right now. He is an adorable 4-year-old English Cocker, brown with big, thoughtful eyes.
He’s not mt dog, he’s my mother’s. I say this tongue in cheek because, while mom and I share a house he is solely and defiantly her dog. It doesn’t matter that I am as responsible for loving and caring for Sammy (Samuel L. Spaniel, guess who came up with that name), despite his current spot on my feet he usually wants very little to do with me.
It bugs me. A little.
I could dedicate a whole post to how stupid it is that I should let a dog affect my self-image at all, but I won’t. It’s not that he doesn’t like me, he is just unhealthily attached and fixated on my mom. He has been since the day she met him at a breeder’s house on a cold Connecticut morning, 4 hours from home. As she described it, “Of the 6 puppies to choose from this one chose me.” And he still, to this day chooses her. And if she’s not around he then chooses nobody. Even if I’m sitting in the same room.

It’s comical in a way. He snubs me like a mean girl in any High School. And I don’t take it personally, I was joking about that. He will play with me, let me throw his ball and make me chase him to get it back. He is happy to take chicken from my outstretched hand and when it’s dinner time he will come to me. But if mom is out he pouts until she comes home. That is both difficult to deal with and hard to watch. It’s difficult, because, in her absence I have to actually pick him up and put him outside, no exaggeration, to pee. Walks can be more like drags.
It’s hard to watch because when Mom is not around he’s actually sad. It is the worst case of separation anxiety I have ever seen, canine or human.
When I think about what bothers me the most, I think it is that I want a dog of my own. I don’t have a place of my own so I can’t. So the next best thing would be to feel that the dog we have is mine as well. The sad reality is, no matter how much attention I give, how many ear scratches and tummy rubs I give, and how many walks I take him on…he is not my dog.

Except when we are in Florida. Mom is here 6 months a year now and this is the first year I have come to visit. I was pleased to see what a nice place it is, how beautiful the weather is, and how friendly the people are. I was not prepared for the dog that sure looks like Sam, but isn’t. I don’t get it. He is friendly to me, relaxed and affectionate, and when mom goes out he is happy to be in my company. He is so different, it’s quite strange.
I guess he is a Florida dog. I’m different when I’m here as well. I’m not going to try to figure it out. I’m just going to run with it. I’m sure once he comes home in May he will return to ignoring me again.

I’ll just file this under the “go figure” category.

Stoic and didn’t know it

I’ve always desired to live my life by a Philosophy, a theory or attitude as a guiding principle for my behavior. It’s a source of great curiosity to me because, before I really explored my need for this, it felt like I was a protégé without the luxury of a mentor. It was as if I wasn’t leading my own way, but instead I was looking for someone or something to guide me.
Which made me a follower. Which I hate. When it comes to who you are, nobody wants to be a lump of wet clay.
That realization saddened me and served as a revelation as well. I looked hard at things and realized the many ways in which I tried to be someone or something that I was not. It took far too long, but eventually, I developed the ability to be myself. Of course, that presented a whole different set of challenges. “Myself” was not a guy that I wanted to spend time with. I am working on that and it is a challenge that I am not taking lightly. In fact, it is almost entirely what I think, dream, read and write about. I am taking a particularly hard look at where the “follower” in me ends and where the unique individual in me begins. After much investigation, the inevitable conclusion was that I was not living a life and presenting a persona that was consistent with my core beliefs and desires.
In short, I didn’t know who or what the hell I was!

Thus began the most difficult thing I have ever done, taking a searching and fearless look into what really mattered to me. To do so required me to identify every way in which my life was ruled by convention and to challenge it. The good news is I think I have a better idea now. But I wish I knew how I was able to deny myself the liberation of living by my core values and beliefs, my very nature, for so many years of my life. Was I afraid of challenging the status quo?
I didn’t require a great “philosophy of life”. No school of thought or set of principles is going to serve every situation. I believe that what I needed was consistency and I was in search of a means to maintain it.

I’ve learned a lot about myself of late. But learning is not enough. I must embrace what I have learned, live it not shy away from it, and create real growth. As a good start, I am definitely defying convention, the very thing that made me a follower.

For the sake of brevity, I will not list all of the many ways that I have changed my thinking, I just want to touch on one. I always thought that I was complex. Yes, I know, all men say that. But as it turns out I’m very simple. Not Carl from Sling Blade simple, simple in that I don’t need or want much. I like things to be manageable, regardless of how difficult situations become. Simple to understand and consistent in what I stand for. Simple as defined by the familiar colloquialism “you get what you see.” If only there were a school of philosophy that embraced simple existence, harmonious and non-intrusive. One for those who want to live with the earth, not just on it.

Imagine my joy when I (re)discovered Stoicism! There IS a Philosophy that I CAN use and adhere to as I work towards the life I crave. Stoicism is actually quite simple.

“It’s not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.”

― Epictetus

I have been a Stoic and didn’t know it!

Inventory

Having gone on a retreat/hiatus of sorts, I have had some much-needed down time to decompress and do some thinking. The deep thinking predictably led me to assess my life and do a proper inventory. Inventories are difficult and can be painful. If a business owner were to become complacent in the inventory of his goods, he may find that he is in worse off than he thought financially. It works the same way when you inventory your own life. You may not like what you come up with and at that point you are faced with a choice; to accept it as it is or to seek a solution. To seek a solution requires asking questions, and that is where I am at in the process. I began questioning everything.

The first thing major question I addressed was whether I left my job for the right reasons. I had put in 6 months as a Recovery Case Manager working with those struggling with addiction. I loved it and by all accounts I was great at it. Entering a field such as Recovery without a background (educationally or by virtue of being an addict oneself) is difficult and requires a specific skill set and a proven ability to display empathy, understanding, and listening skills. Despite not using my Psych degree since I graduated in the early 90’s, it was a roll of the dice. But the complicated series of events that I call my life qualified me just fine. I became a thorough, relatable, competent and effective Case Manager and I was making a difference.
 But it kicked my physical and emotional ass. Health reasons, physical more than mental, drove my decision. I am immunocompromised due to my Kidney Transplant and I was working in a fucking Petrie Dish. After contracting COVID twice, a stomach flu and a cold that I couldn’t shake for over a month I made the decision. But the job satisfaction aspect nagged at me. If you need to know just ONE thing about me to understand the possible loftiness and intense nature of my statements, know that I am ALL about purpose. I have received the gift of life and have escaped the Bastard known as DEATH more times than any one many should be allowed. I therefore have the attitude of gratitude. If I stopped doing a job that satisfies my mentality of giving back and paying it forward, what am I going to do in its place? 
It didn’t take me long to realize that I am not going to lose that side of me, as I have lost so many other things that gave me joy. Therefore, I resolved that I would continue to volunteer my time and resources to causes that matter to me. That gave me comfort about my decision to leave a job that satisfied my soul. I vowed to research local charities that I could volunteer for; Make-A-Wish, Animal Shelters, Veteran’s causes and Motorcycle groups that focus on charitable rides. Therein would lie my answer.

I was then troubled to realize, after a few weeks of semi-retirement that another question had risen up and begged answering. Why was I not full of that desire to go do all of those things that would adequately fill the void created by leaving my job? Where was that motivated guy? That guy was laying on the sofa, eating junk food, watching TV and not doing anything productive at all. I will cut myself a small break, I wasn’t feeling good. I was still recovering from the virus that made me leave my job. And it was Winter. The cold weather, constant snow storms and lack of sunlight are not my friends. Not excuses but worthy of mention. Still, I was concerned that I was going to fall into a regrettable cycle; lazy, unmotivated, unaccomplished, and lacking purpose.

That is when I decided to head to see Mom in West Palm. I vowed to get moving physically and mentally. To walk, workout, read and write at a pace that I have never before. I have checked all the boxes so far. But to write everything I have come up with is going to take some time, due to the number of questions that I have raised and, thankfully, I have the desire to put to paper.

Fortunately, time is something I now have a lot of.

Question Everything

Question everything. That is where I am now. I do not know how it happened, but the way I look at everything seems to have changed lately. Two things come immediately to mind; it happened quite quickly, and I love what I am seeing. In short, everything is upside down and on its side. As Dr. Venkman so eloquently stated in Ghostbusters…

Things happen that way with me. I have epiphanies, moments in which my eyes suddenly open, my mind shifts, my vision becomes clear, and things suddenly make sense. Not always forever in some cases, but enough to enable insight and encourage change. My most recent epiphany is here to stay. It is not a fleeting thought or a passing fancy that serves to temporarily inspire or provoke thought. Instead, as a result, the world around me presents if I were a young child. A world in which everything is a new and exciting experience.
Somewhere, at some point in the last 6 or 8 months my understanding of countless aspects of life, my own and those of the wonderful world around me, shifted (morphed?) in such a way that I am questioning, with the intent to be and do better, my understanding and perception of everything. To name a few,
Relationships.
Friendships.
Politics.
People.
Family.
Conversations and events old and new.
The world around me and,
My role and purpose in it.

I find myself very motivated by what I am feeling. I feel like I am on the right track. In many ways, I feel like a different person. Where there once stood a man that, while mostly positive, was prone at times to see things in a very cynical and unproductive light, now stands a man that looks at every interaction, recalls every conversation, and replays every situation to assess if there is anything that could be learned from it and what could have been done better? It’s truly a liberating and exciting feeling to experience such an injection of emotional vitality and intellectual stimulation at a time in my life in which I was dreading stagnation and lack of interest in learning or applying anything new.

This, in conjunction with my current deep dive into the Stoic Lifestyle, is giving me the exact boost I desperately craved.
That’s enough for this post, but expect more (I do hope you read it and share it with me) as I share that which is in question, my old take vs the new, and the effect it will have on me as I continue to work towards “better”.

I won’t chase you…


I have become cognizant of something that I have perhaps known about for a long time but not truly aware of its hold on me. I am closed off more often than not. This is not to be confused with friendly; I am very friendly and accepting to all.
Once the walls come down.
But it needs to be stated that my very demeanor unless I know you, suggests the following:
Good luck getting close enough to me where I will allow you to hurt or reject me.

I have been hurt for the last time. I sure hope so, at least. The last one still stings. I let her in. I showed her what was behind the curtain. I dropped my guard and I opened up my life, all the good and the bad. In return, she took my heart, stomped it to a bloody pulp, and gave it back to me in a “to-go” bag. I don’t blame her. Mistakes were made on both sides. Once the “fucking each other senseless” phase began to wane, our incompatibility revealed itself. It wasn’t that we weren’t good for each other, it was that her dark side (which I was properly warned about) emerged and that, combined with her inability to share her life with anyone, drove us apart. The way she did it cut me deep. I took it hard. I thought I had finally found the one and instead I was holding a bloody bag.
It took me quite a while to realize that I was good to her and, despite the heartbreak, it was her loss and not mine. Reconciliation with her occupies zero space in my head. The lingering questions and profound heartache have the full space rented.

A friend of ten years became conspicuously absent from our usual texts and FB exchanges. I checked his profile. He had blocked me. I understand that FB is silly but this was an actual friend. I called him. He didn’t want to talk to me. All I could get from him was that his wife was mad at me (for reasons I still don’t know) and he, being a dutiful husband (or pussy) followed suit to keep the peace. I was furious and I stayed that way for some time. It hurt that a friend that I had a very profound connection with would discard me so easily. I’m mostly over it. It’s now more annoying than painful.

Another friend of more than 10 years, whom I met in a fraternal organization, gradually became standoffish and distant. I came to learn that he was jealous of some recognition I had received. His envy, despite my inclusivity and deliberate humility, was palpable. When it came his turn to succeed me I was complimentay, supportive and genuinely happy for him. He in turn disrepected me publicly in a way that stung as badly as the dagger Brutus plunged into Caesar. I was, and still am as of this writing, very upset with him. Sadly, I’m not entirely sure he knows he did it. He has shown himself to be pompous, arrogant and much disliked so it is feasible to add clueless to this list. But I’m not going to tell him about my humiliation. Because he, like the ones discussed here and any others that may come to mind at a future date, are not WORTHY of my love and friendship.

The new me, the one that places value on myself and is now aware of my worth, will not chase anyone. I will not give of myself to people who are not worthy of what I have to offer. I am a great leader when tasked, a dedicated and loyal friend to the end, and in a relationship I am generous and caring to a fault. I bring a great deal of value to those I care about.

But going forward, you have to be worthy of it. And if you discard it, and me in the process, I will not run after you. I will instead wish you a nice journey.